


Mathematically Improbable

by PunkHazard



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Librarians come and go. Guardians last a while, so historically they’ve had to learn not to get too attached to their wards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mathematically Improbable

Librarians come and go, Eve knows (her first died after a year on the job, her second in three months, both of them when they'd wandered away from her, as they're wont to do). Guardians last a while, so historically they've had to learn not to get too attached to their wards. 

The Library takes a shine to Ezekiel Jones, first of the guests to sneak his way into the Annex, and youngest name on the list. He'd been appointed Librarian on the spot, after expressing both abject wonder at the goods contained within the structure along with a healthy dose of skepticism. 

"So," he says after the rundown, giving Eve a cheeky once-over that practically begs for a fist to the face, "you're my Guardian?" 

"Unfortunately," she deadpans back, idly wondering at how long this kid would last before he gets himself eaten or stabbed. Not that she'd try to expedite the process or anything, but the stress headache already building momentum between her brows can't be a coincidence. 

"Hey, that means I get to give you orders, right?" 

"Not even remotely how it works, Jones." 

Jones gives her a thoughtful nod, then immediately dashes for the shelves again, pulling down books and artifacts, investigating them with a quick thief's scan before deftly returning them to their places. Eve's initial surge of concern fades quickly when she sees how careful he is, despite the speed of his movements. Her NATO training tells her that he'd be deadly with a weapon, should he ever choose to pick one up. 

After a few more aisles, Jones turns around and stares right at-- right _past_ Eve. He gestures vaguely in the direction of the Clipping Book and meets her eyes with a half-curious grin. "Hey Eve--" 

"Colonel Baird," Eve practically snarls. 

"Colonel Baird--" 

"Thank you." 

"Don't sweat it." 

"You were saying?" 

"Oh, yeah. Why's that book glowing?" 

* * *

Right before they step through the door for a cursed violin in Moscow, Eve hauls Jones back by the collar of his shirt. "You," she says firmly, "need to grab a coat. It's freezing in Russia right now!" 

Jones rolls his eyes, trying to struggle out of her grip and failing miserably. "I've already got a jacket," he whines, "it'll be fine, the cold doesn't bother me all that much anyway! Just call me Elsa." 

"No. Put on a coat." 

He shrugs into a parka with a resentful scowl and barely has time to protest before Eve also wraps a scarf around his neck and fits a fuzzy hat over his head, turning down the earflaps. "Look," she tells him, "I've been to Moscow this time of year and trust me, you need this." 

"I," he answers indignantly while she zips up her own coat, "look stupid." He also tries desperately to loop the scarf in a moderately stylish way, but there's nothing to be done about the hat so he gives up. Eve drags him after her by the sleeve, puffy material tight in her grip so he won't have a chance to disappear once they're through. It wouldn't be the first time he uses the momentary disorientation of teleportation to bail on whatever mission they have on hand. 

He always comes back, but never without another load of trouble snapping at his heels-- trouble they probably would have encountered at some point anyway, but Eve likes to know where all the moving parts of an assignment are. 

"Alright," she sighs as they stumble out of the Rossija Hotel's back door, "the Clipping Book says that the first instance of a dimensional rip happened in--" 

"Colonel Baird," Jones interrupts, nose buried behind his scarf and looking more appreciative of it every second, "I've gotta pay a visit to the dunny." 

"The what?" 

"The little boy's room." 

"Are you _kidding me_?" Eve throws her arms up, then immediately sticks her hands back into her pockets. "Fine," she huffs, "follow me. Why didn't you go before we left?" 

"Well, I already had all this stuff on, so..." 

* * *

When he sets up his laptop (and workstations, and PS4, and projector) in the Library, she gives him a Look for blasting his mixed T-ARA and AC/DC playlist at full volume, and an even harsher Look when he repurposes a pair of cursed WW2-era headphones to keep the noise level down. He gives her a mischievous grin when she gestures at him to take them off and put them back ( _Can't hear you, Colonel!_ )-- then an indignant squawk when she plucks the earphones off his head. 

He needles her about it all through their next case, a wild chase through Argentina for a pack of Chupacabras that've developed a taste for human flesh when they came into possession of Dracula's dagger. When the two of them finally encounter the beasts, four of them chase Jones up a tree once he steals back the knife and keep him there while Eve beats down the rest. 

(See, he says later, I kept 'em busy and off your back. 

He has a point, so Eve graciously doesn't remind him of his high-pitched puberty-cracked screaming.) 

Later that day, Jones makes hot chocolate from a bar of dark chocolate he'd picked up while they were in South America (Eve doesn't ask him whether or not he paid for it; she never likes the answer) and tells her he'd ended up with too much so she'd better take a cup off his hands before it gets cold and nasty. 

He's through the door and off to his next non-magical caper before she can respond, so she takes a sip of the drink instead. 

(It's delicious.) 

* * *

Eve's modus operandi is (ideally) to get the Librarian out of her way so she can handle the threat. Ezekiel's favorite move is to disappear as quickly and as quietly as possible while someone else does the punching. That's the first thing they ever agree on, and pretty much the last; it is, by far, the most important. 

He has a knack for appearing just in time to drop a rock on an opponent's head, or to arrive back with some weapon if Eve's been disarmed. That finely-tuned sense of danger gives him a pretty good idea of when to make himself scarce and when it's safe to return, and when she might need a bit of a helping hand. They've been working together for about two years before Eve finally stops wondering who the next Librarian will be-- no one's better at survival than Ezekiel. 

Besides, he's started outsourcing cases to his internet friends between personally taking them on, sometimes spending hours at a time directing several agents at once. Eve had told him it was a bad idea, but the Library itself had seemed on board-- it is, if nothing else, as thirsty for knowledge and new experiences as any Librarian has ever been. 

After a particularly grueling slog through a Louisiana swamp, during which Eve had stumbled into a pool of quicksand and nearly had her foot bitten off by an alligator, Ezekiel stumbles to his favorite couch in the Library's reading lounge and settles in with his laptop; Eve goes to take a shower and a nap. 

When she wakes up and wanders back to the reading area, Ezekiel's fast asleep with his head on one armrest and a foot thrown over the opposite one, a blanket sloppily drawn over his legs. 

Librarians come and go, Eve knows. 

_But,_ she thinks as she approaches the couch and lifts his computer off his chest, nudges his foot back into place and pulls the blanket properly over his shoulders, _not this one._


End file.
